‘The Horrors of Kwiksave’ is a candid recollection of my memories working at Kwiksave (the now-defunct discount supermarket chain) as a 'Stock Lad'.
I wasted over FOUR years of my life in this maggot-infested hellhole and still occasionally wake up drenched in sweat after enduring a nightmare in which I am working there still.
Some of the names have been slightly changed simply to save my arse in case anyone takes offence at some of the details regarding my facts or opinions.
Many of the people mentioned are now dead as this happened so long ago, but their siblings are not.
This is the 'HIVE Special Edition' of a multi-part autobiographical story (with a little over-embellishment on some of the details) I posted on STEEM over 3 years ago.
It contains a LOT more detail and content than the original and will fill in many gaps that were missed the first time around.
Chapter One: A Prelude to the Best Job in the Land
Chapter Two: The Job Centre
Chapter Three: The Interview
Chapter Four: Christmas is Coming
Chapter Five: The Changing of the Blades
Chapter Six: The Staff
Chapter Seven: The Auxiliary Staff and The Load
Chapter Eight: The Sugar Maniac
Chapter Nine: The Accusation and "Big Lad"
Chapter Ten: Naggy
Chapter Eleven: Shit & Noise
Chapter Twelve: The Death of Mort
Chapter Thirteen: The Time of Many Managers
Chapter Fourteen: The Calm before the Storm
Chapter Fifteen: David Dire
Chapter Sixteen: Bad Totty
Chapter Seventeen: Tracy, The Wild One
Chapter Eighteen: 'Buff-It-up'
Chapter Nineteen: The Demise of Ian Banks
Chapter Twenty: The Date (Part One)
Chapter Twenty One: The Date (Part Two)
Chapter Twenty Two: Dire's Lunge)
Chapter Twenty Three: 'Eggy-Poos'
Chapter Twenty Four: Adele, The Hot Minx
Chapter Twenty Five: Last Christmas
Chapter Twenty Six: No Gawping!
Chapter Twenty Seven: The End
Chapter Twenty Seven: The End
'WARNING: BAD LANGUAGE BELOW'
All stories come to an end and in May 1985, I managed to escape Kwiksave. Where I went next was even worse, and briefly detailed below.
In a specific Mort, The Shit Manager episode I mentioned the dreaded 'Heat Machine' but never in my 'proper' memoirs.
The Heat Machine
Like any store, Kwiksave needed a source of heat and this came in the form of what Welder and I named, ‘The Heat Machine’.
It was like something from another time, ancient, large and somehow integrated into the wall at the very bottom end of the store, and as far away from the entrance doors as possible.
‘The Heat Machine’ had two settings, manipulated by a switch; on and off. There were no temperature settings, so that meant we.. the stock lads melted if I was on too long and due to our constant manual slave-like labour, subjected to a regular temperature if off.
Switching on ‘The Heat Machine’ resulted in a churning motor starting, followed by a high-pitched scream akin to a screeching banshee followed by billows of unbearable, unrelenting heat.
We took it in turns to turn the fucker off whenever we had a chance, which annoyed Dire no end, but it wasn’t just us doing this.
Sid the Greengrocer whose fresh vegetables were right next to this deadly heat spitter ritually turned it off citing the excuse ‘my veg is prematurely rotting’.
I do remember winding Sid up somewhat by hiding close to the machine and switching it back on 30 seconds after he had walked away. The screeching sound always gave it away to everyone that the heat was indeed back and pumping out again.
Talk about self-torture for some laughs. Sid seems a little confused to say the least.
A few days he cottoned on that it was indeed ME switching it back on just to wind him up. I recall him chasing me around the store once, with Welder and me in fits of laughter keeping just out of reach. Yes, I was an annoying bastard then.
Most of the time it was Dire who waddled down to the bottom of the store to switch this nightmare on.
“Youz, YOUZ!!!.. had better stop turning off thees heat as my girls are cold, veerrry cold, and yous better nots remove those overalls too", Dire would often tell us.., us who looked blankly back at him.
Removing the overalls was strictly not allowed. We tended to have skin only inside these, so you can imagine the sweat and stench coming off them, especially from Welder.
Dire never got angry, but you could always figure out when he was pissed off. Having to constantly walk from the office to ‘The Heat Machine’ was wearing on him.
"Very cold…, my girls... right.., you just want to shove your wrinkly old cock up inside their vaginas", I was thinking. If they were female, then they were fair game.
Dire was very different than the late Mort, and more akin to thinking himself single, twenty-one years old, great looking and oozing male pheromones that should have resulted in the chicks begging him to be shagged.
We had gone from a rusty spoon-spinning, despotic deviant to a balding, portly, would-be middle-aged gigolo. Could things get any worse?
The End
My memories are vague, perhaps little happened besides Clive, the Carpet man emptying his pockets when I told him I was leaving.
He needed to be prompted; the gesture did not come voluntarily. I cupped both hands and he emptied lots of 1, 2, 5 and 10p's into my outstretched palms, which spilled over after a while.
Source
Still, it was something and nobody else bothered. Perhaps I was unpopular, or the staff had nothing to give, not even a 'Good Luck with the future'... verbal send-off.
Dire seemed very happy for me to leave and I can't even remember a goodbye, never mind a leaving present.
The corpulent pig had outlasted me, and now he just had Welder.
Epilogue
I visited Kwiksave perhaps twice after my leaving and both times in the immediate weeks after my departure. I noticed a new stock lad had been quickly hired and both times, I did not see Dire.
Welder was to leave within the year and join the Army. I am still in touch with him but dare not send him these stories.
There are far too many accusations of pungency amongst other things and I figure it won't go down well, with the 'old' Welder.
Despite being a couple of years younger than me, he is now obese, disabled and sponging on the social. That’s what eight pints of lager a night does to you combined with too much smoking.
Sid moved his Fruit and Vegetable store to the very front of the store next to the constantly opening front door. His vegetables would retain freshness for a longer. I figure Sid is either very old or dead now.
Source
...'this older Clive is not the one I remember, apart from the extra long legs. RIP man, you were the only one who acknowledged my escape with doubloons'...
Clive, the extra lanky carpet man retired in 2010. I did hear he died shortly after due to an ailment related to his gigantism condition.
David Dire died from Cancer in 1998. Doug the Thug, his son informed me of this who I am also still in touch with, and he is also someone who can never read this material.
I got a job in a shitty factory and walked after just seven days. Both jilting Kwiksave and said factory were among the best two decisions I would ever make.
With the current tales that @bingbabe tells me of Tesco and Morrison, little has changed in the entry-level retail business. Bullying prevails as well as long-term staff and management cliques.
Newer staff are very disposable and both of these stores are still toxic and unpleasant to work for.
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